Favored
by Alohaemora
Summary: Every Death Eater strives to be favored, through the Dark Lord's eyes.


27 July 1981

The small cottage stood at the foot of the grassy hillside. In the afternoons, the sun glinted down on the little house's windows, lighting them up in a warm, welcoming fashion. Smoke would shoot out of the chimney in soft, gray swirls and puffs, and the curtains of the large, glass front door would be drawn aside, revealing the bungalow's small, sweet sitting room.

But, in the evenings, everything changed. Every curtain would be closed, every window would be sealed, and every door would be double-latched. And, the snug, summery lodge would resemble nothing more than a boulder, at the foothills of Devon.

For months, this went on. And, to anyone who didn't know better, it would appear that the cabin was completely uninhabited. No one ever came out. No one every went in. Activity of any essence was very sparse near the little house…

…until that one night. That night, three figures could just be seen making their way down the matted, reedy hillside, towards the quiet bungalow at the bottom. All three figures wore long, black, hooded cloaks, which made it very difficult for anyone to discern their demeanor. And, over their faces, they wore gleaming masks with small, snake-eye slits.

When, they had progressed about half-way down the hills, the shortest of the men spoke, tone bitter, "What were you thinking, Travers?"

A ringing silence followed the short man's declaration. For a moment, it seemed as though neither of the other two men would answer. But, then, the burly one cleared his throat.

"I have to agree with Avery on this one, Travers," he spat, turning his head sharply to face Travers. "What _were_ you thinking?"

Travers stopped short in his tracks. He pulled his mask off and shook his hood back, glaring fiercely at his two companions.

How dare they question his authority.

"It is absolutely none of your business what was going through my mind when I accepted our Lord's request," he quipped coolly. "And, therefore, I would appreciate it if you simply closed your mouths and continued on with the mission at hand," he raised a finger in the direction of the foothill cottage. "And, Antonin,"—he addressed the burly man, his brows arching spitefully—"kindly take any complaints you have about your future missions directly to the Dark Lord, as it was he who chose you for this mission…_personally…_" Travers's lip curled, and he found himself unable to keep the envy from entering his voice.

Antonin let out a bark of laughter. "Jealous, are we?" His eyes sparkled with mirth. "Well, I'll have you know, Travers, dear, that you aren't the only one that the Dark Lord trusts with dangerous missions such as this."

Travers ignored the jibe, and, instead, continued to stroll down the hillside, leaving his comrades to chase after him.

Antonin reached Travers first. "So, what's your plan?"

Travers cringed slightly, as the directness of the question left him startled, but he quickly regained his composure. "Let's wait until we reach the damned house before he begin discussing battle tactics, shall we?"

There was a tense pause as Antonin considered this, eyes widening. Then, he blurted out, "You don't _have_ a plan? Travers, you _fool_—!"

A sudden flash of light lit up the expanse, and, suddenly, Antonin was clutching at his right hand, as though burned.

"Don't talk to me like that," Travers hissed, livid. "Don't you _dare_ talk to me like that, Dolohov! _I_ am the leader of this mission!"

"Are you?" Antonin Dolohov whirled around, eyes burning with fury. "Well, then, start acting like it!"

By this point, Avery, the shortest of the trio, had reached his two accomplices. "Antonin! Travers! Look!" He gestured frantically in the direction of the cottage.

Travers snapped his gaze onto the house, cursing irately under his breath. A dim light had appeared in the large, front window. "Well done, Dolohov," he jeered. "Your childish hollering woke them up."

Antonin spluttered in disbelief. "My _hollering_? Don't bluff, Travers, you know full well it was your brilliant, little curse which woke them up."

Travers opened his mouth to retort, but an indignant yell from his left shoulder stopped him. Avery had crossed his arms, glowering impatiently from Antonin to Travers.

"Please, let's just keep the arguing to a minimum," he snapped. And without a word, he began trudging the rest of a distance down the hill, Antonin in his wake, leaving a shocked, resentful Travers gaping after them.

* * *

><p>As soon as the dim candlelight in the window had flickered out, Travers jumped to his feet, clutching his wand.<p>

"Ready?" he murmured. Antonin and Avery nodded mutely.

"All right," he instructed, voice low. "Listen up. The four children will most likely be sleeping upstairs. Leave them be. The Dark Lord cares not if they remain alive…they are only measly children, after all."

"And where will the adults be?" Avery inquired curiously.

"In the sitting room," Travers explained. "Marlene, her husband, his brother and his sister-in-law…they will probably not be…_fully_ asleep…so, er, let us try not to knock anything over before we reach them." His eyes rested fleetingly on Antonin, who, of the three, was the most unwieldy, due to his size.

Antonin glared back at him.

"Remember—first, capture," Travers commanded, as he raised his wand and pointed it towards the small, brass doorknob. "Then, kill."

* * *

><p>The screams of the two women mingled with Avery's cries of pain. Travers swiveled around. Avery had gotten his foot caught between two of the wooden staircase's narrow steps.<p>

"You idiot!" Travers yelled, as Avery's cries increased in volume. "You _idiot_—I told you not to go upstairs, I told you to leave the children alone—Relash—!" he stopped short, yelping in alarm, as his wand flew out of his grip, hitting the opposite wall.

Marlene McKinnon had somehow managed to gain possession of her wand and disarm him. Travers swore.

"Travers!"

Travers looked up. Antonin stood a few feet away, clutching Travers's wand above his head.

"Travers—_take_ _it_!"

Travers barely thought as the wand sailed through the air. The next instant, he had trained it on Marlene. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

And, Marlene crumpled to the ground with a flash of green light. Satisfied, Travers turned and quickly hurried towards the staircase. "Relashio!" he cried breathlessly. Avery gave a strangled cry of joy as he successfully pulled his foot away from the stairs.

"Ah—thank you, Travers." He sighed, sitting down on the bottom step and massaging his heel.

Travers's eye twitched. "Is this a _joke_ to you?" Travers boomed incredulously. "Go help kill the rest of them, you moron!"

Travers had to refrain from cursing the stout, little Death Eater as he jumped to his feet and scuttled off to aid Antonin. Panting slightly, Travers turned around to face the room at large. Antonin had successfully killed Marlene's brother-in-law and his wife, as they lay, completely still, upon the sitting room table. Only Marlene's husband was still on his feet, dueling Antonin in earnest.

Travers's mind reeled. _No_, he thought, gripping his wand very tightly. He could _not_ let Dolohov take all of the credit for the mission—_his_ mission. He lifted his wand, pointing it precisely at Marlene's husband's heaving chest.

"Mumma?"

Travers flinched, spinning around. Four boys were standing at the foot of the staircase. The eldest, about six years old, was furiously trying to shield the other three. Travers's lips twitched into a cold smile. He raised his wand.

"Travers—no!" Antonin's voice came from the other end of the sitting room. "Travers, leave the children! They do not matter, remember?"

Travers glanced over his shoulder. Marlene's husband lay, lifeless, at Antonin's feet.

And, with a roar of fury which only that very sight could have produced, Travers directed his wand at the four, terrified watching children, spewing one killing curse after the other from his mouth. Two, three, four, five—_he_ had killed more McKinnons than Dolohov had. _He_ had completed the mission. _His_ mission.

His lips curved upwards in a satisfied smirk as he slowly revolved around to face his two partners. They looked shocked, Antonin especially so. Travers laughed. The weaklings.

"Let's go," Travers ordered smoothly. "The Dark Lord will be very, very pleased…"

And, as they stepped out into the breezy night, Travers raised his wand, cackling softly as the familiar, glowing, green shape burst across the sky.

The Dark Lord _would_ be pleased. He _would_. He simply _had_ to.

* * *

><p>Writing the following has reminded of why Death Eaters are terrifying. *shudders* But writing this story was an interesting experience, as the content is ever-so-different from my usual warm-hearted pieces. Also, I loved playing around with these guys' characters. I have lella7 to thank for that! Because this is for her "First War" Competition.<p>

Yours sincerely,  
>Alohaemora<p> 


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